


After The Smoke Clears

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 16:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Upon discovering a hidden habit Tobirama uses to relieve the stress of his very busy life, Madara's first instinct is to keep poking the beast. Things don't turn out well - until suddenly they do.





	After The Smoke Clears

Madara would insist even years later that he’d known something was going to happen that day. When Tobirama stepped out of his office in the tower for ‘just a quick moment’ and then never returned, he had the feeling that something was up. Of course, he never in a hundred years could have guessed what it was.

Despite his suspicions he mostly figured that Hashirama would be the one who had to deal with whatever was going on so he didn’t think twice about accepting the invitation to eat dinner at his friend’s house that night. Not just for the entertainment value but also for the promise of good food. Mito and he had never exactly seen eye to eye but he would freely admit that her cooking was some of the best in Fire Country. If tonight was one of the rare nights she felt like cooking instead of her husband then Madara wasn’t going to turn down an invitation to partake in whatever marvel she whipped up this time.

The moment they arrived, however, dinner plans were put on a temporary hold. Hashirama stopped dead as soon as he spotted the back of a fluffy white head just peeping up over the edge of the couch, small rustling and crunching noises coming from that direction. Madara raised one eyebrow in question when his friend assumed a look of exasperated resignation, dragging one hand down his face before turning away to call loudly through the house.

“Mito! I thought we hid all the snacks?” He was met at the end of the hall by his wife, hands on her hips.

“I’d like to see you find a place we can hide them that he couldn’t sniff them out,” she snapped back.

Madara ignored them, creeping forward to peer over the couch and see what all the fuss was about. As he came in to sight, Tobirama looked up at him and it was immediately evident what they were all upset over. Despite the evidence before his eyes, however, Madara could hardly believe was he was seeing.

This close to the younger man he was able to pick up the heavy scent of some sort of herb off of him. The sclera of both eyes were as red as the irises, lids drooping down to half-mast and crinkled at the corners. His mouth was stretched in a wide lazy smile, teeth bared in the least threatening manner Madara had ever seen from him. As he caught sight of someone above him Tobirama retracted one hand from where it had been buried in a container of cookies to give a vague wave.

“Heyyyyy Mads,” he slurred, ending with a muffled giggle. Madara stared for a moment before standing straight again and calling down the hallway to his friend.

“Hashirama your brother is broken.”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s fine. This happens sometimes. I just…I thought I hid the snacks this time.”

“This _happens sometimes_?” Madara parroted, stunned.

Turning back to take another peek at the man slouched on the sofa, he watched Tobirama reach for the cookies again and nibble on one. His head was titled back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling and it didn’t really look like he had a lot of important things running through his mind – or much of anything, really. Clearly he was under the influence of something. Madara had never been the type to indulge in herbs or powders or any kind, more than aware of how addictive some of them could be. A clan Head could hardly afford to lose his mind to that kind of addiction.

Eventually Tobirama’s bloodshot eyes rolled to the side and locked on to his again. The hand that had been digging for a fresh cookie held its prize up above his head, weaving it through the air under Madara’s nose.

“You want one?” When he received no immediate answer he wriggled the treat enticingly. “Hey, hey Mads. Mads. You want – you want a cookie? You want a cookie? You–”

“Fine! Shut up!” Madara snatched the cookie and stalked away. Hashirama was still bickering with his spouse when he reached them and shoved his best friend’s shoulder none too gently. “He keeps calling me _Mads_. Explain.”

“Well he’s not exactly going to act like himself, Madara. He’s high.”

“You say that as if I’m just supposed to pass right over the fact that your tight-assed little brother is _high_ without batting a fucking eyelash. Explain further, ass wipe.” Thankfully, his death glare was as effective as it ever was in making Hashirama sweat. His friend gulped and held up both hands in surrender.

“Brother just needs to relax sometimes, you know?” Hashirama frowned. “His mind is always running so fast and he can’t really turn it off. Sometimes he just needs to switch off for a while and take a break but he can’t do that on his own so he found this plant. He grows it in his lab and I think he inhales the smoke or something. I dunno, we never see him actually ingest it. He just shows up and starts eating me out of house and home, sits on the couch, maybe chats to someone if they’re there.”

Madara turned that over in his head and gave himself a moment to process, absently munching on the cookie he still held. Everyone in the village with working eyes could see how stressed Tobirama was on a daily basis. He’d already had his fair share of duties within his own clan; when the village had been created he’d more than doubled his own workload. That he needed a break was a common opinion.

This kind of ‘break’ was just a little unexpected.

“How often?” Madara asked eventually. Instead of Hashirama, Mito was the one who answered as she stepped out of the kitchen again, wiping her hands on a towel.

“More often, lately, as the work piles up. He used to put it off until he was nearing insomnia from all the stress, perhaps once every five or six months. Now he’s lucky if he makes it five weeks.” Handing the towel off to her husband, Mito raised her voice and called down the hall. “Dinner!”

From his spot on the couch Tobirama made a noise of interest. It still took him a moment to gain his feet though. Each movement looked as though he were under water, slow and appearing to take more effort than usual. Just walking to the kitchen seemed to take all of his concentration and Madara shook his head as the younger man trotted by him. It was sort of pathetic to watch.

Since Hashirama’s kitchen table only had four seats Madara was forced to sit next to the impaired Senju. The scent of the herbs he had used was terrible, putting Madara off his dinner, but it was almost worth sitting there just to watch how differently he acted. It was like someone had henged in to him and was doing a _terrible_ impression _._

Usually fastidious to the point of being fussy, Tobirama had them all rolling their eyes as he ate his entire meal with his fingers, loudly proclaiming over how smooth the noodles were and postulating about whether different types of noodles would have different levels of smoothness. The taste of the fried vegetables made him groan in near ecstasy as though they were the best thing he had ever been served in his life. Any other day he would have spent the entire meal glaring at Madara, probably in the hopes of making him uncomfortable enough to leave. Today he seemed to have forgotten their animosity, leaning in to the older man’s side, drawing him in to pointless speculation over how long a human male could hold their breath and then actually listening when he was told not to try it.

Probably the part where he actually listened was the part that freaked Madara out the most. He’d never seen Tobirama let anyone stop him on his quest to answer a scientific question, no matter how inane other people found it. If he found it interesting he was typically very single-minded about his research. It was actually one his more endearing qualities, although it would take some extreme torture for Madara to admit to that.

Through it all Tobirama smiled and Madara couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of that simple change of expression. It transformed his entire face from dour to approachable just with a slight re-angling on his lips. Or maybe it had something to do with the happy glint in his eyes and the utter relaxation of his body, not a stiff spine in sight.

After dinner Hashirama encouraged his brother back to the couch and herded Madara down next to him. Tobirama dozed off rather quickly, dropping his head on to the shoulder beside him with a peaceful expression. A little uncomfortable, but not willing to disturb him, Madara glared at his friend to make sure he understood the retribution that he was owed. Hashirama looked appropriately worried for sure but he seemed too enamored with the scene before him to be all that scared. Mito, on the other hand, was taking only enjoyment from his situation.

It took ten minutes for him to squirm out from underneath the younger man and neither of his hosts were willing to help him, preferring to observe and giggle shamelessly. Madara left with his head held high and his tattered dignity trailing after him.

Several days passed before he saw Tobirama again, long enough for him to realize even before they crossed paths that the other was avoiding him. When he finally did spot a familiar head of white hair Tobirama had done the only thing that could possibly have still surprised him: he had blushed. It looked sort of like the red markings on his face were spreading out across his skin. Madara only had a moment or two to glimpse the effect before Tobirama spun on his heel and stormed back in to his own office, slamming the door behind himself.

His first instinct was, of course, to keep poking the beast. That had always been the nature of their relationship and he was hardly about to stop now that there was something so interesting at hand. Although this was hardly the first time he had focused his attention on Tobirama to rib him for something or other, it was the first time the younger man had responded with such new and intriguing reactions. He blushed. He left the room before Madara could try and speak to him. On one of the few occasions Madara managed to corner him for a brief moment he actually stuttered before making up some terrible excuse to free himself. It was more entertainment than Madara had ever had out of the man.

What he failed to take in to account while he was shamelessly taking his amusement at the other’s expense was how much he might be increasing Tobirama’s stress level beyond what it already was. It didn’t occur to him until he actually needed to speak to him for something regarding work. Nearly two hours went in to tracking him down, only to find him holed up in the basement of the library that almost no one visited, both hands pulling at his hair. The moment Madara walked in to the room his entire body coiled like an angry cat, ready to bound away at the first sign of trouble.

“There you are,” Madara growled without thinking. The younger man looked back at him with a suspicious gaze and gave no more reply than a grunt. “What in blazes are you doing down in this mausoleum?”

“Avoiding you!”

“I – oh.” He frowned, blinking slowly as he pondered how he should have expected that. “Well I need to talk to you so just sit still for five minutes, would you?”

He hardly expected Tobirama’s left eye to twitch or for the tension within him to suddenly explode.

“No! No _you_ sit still and leave me the hell alone! Just one day, that’s all I’m asking, just go away and leave me in peace for one fucking day! I don’t need this! You’re just always there with your questions and the smirking and it’s driving me insane!” As he ranted, Tobirama seemed unaware of how wide both of his eyes were or how manic he looked with his arms waving around the way they were. “Do you know how much time I’m losing, running around trying to find some quiet without you there poking at me? Do you know how much work I’m getting done? None! I’m so behind I may actually have gone backwards in time and I swear to the shinigami I’m about two seconds away from taking your fucking head off if you don’t _leave me the hell alone!_ ”

Madara stood utterly still, unable to move, unable to breathe, entirely unable to do anything but stare with a gaping jaw. If seeing Tobirama under the influence of herbs was shocking, seeing him completely lose his cool like this was something he didn’t even have a word for. The poor man was panting and shaking in the aftermath of his outburst but he was standing more still than Madara had seen him in days, allowing the chance to see him more closely.

The rims of his eyes were as red as the markings on his cheeks, although there was no scent of smoke on him, belying the fact that he was likely getting next to no sleep. His hair was standing up at all sorts of odd angles and the tension in his shoulders was so tight it was a surprise they weren’t right up around his ears. Add in the disheveled clothing and it was like seeing another bad henge. It was hard to decide which one was most unlike him.

“It was just a question about the council meeting next Friday,” Madara was able to choke out eventually. Tobirama swallowed thickly, struggling obviously to draw breath.

“Go ask Hashirama,” he mumbled. “Leave me alone.” As a now-familiar blush slowly crawled its way on to his skin, Madara realized that the red hue of it had been covering up how gray he‘d become, hiding his fatigue each time Madara went to tease him again.

“Just a quick question, on my honor. I couldn’t find the minutes from the last meeting and you were the one who filed them.”

Tobirama shook his head and stepped to the side, inching around the older man towards the doorway. “I’ll have someone get them for you; I need to – I just need to go.”

Over the course of his career as a shinobi Madara had done innumerous despicable things that the gods might never forgive him for – and he was sure that he had never felt as guilty for any of it as he did for what he had done to Tobirama. The man was a wreck, clearly dancing on the edge of a breakdown, and it was all his fault. For some reason there was an extra layer of guilt to taking someone as strictly put together as Tobirama and reducing him to the feral coil of energy he had just watched explode in front of him.

He had to apologize. Just thinking of that concept nearly convinced him to check his own temperature but he knew it was the right thing to do. Although, perhaps it would be best if he gave the other some time to cool off first. If he went seeking Tobirama right now he would only make the younger man feel trapped and attacked again, possibly risking a second explosion before he could even get a word out.

Even though it chaffed like an untended wound, Madara managed to wait for another two hours before deciding that he could take it no longer and left to find where his best friend’s little brother had gone. The first place he looked was of course the Tower, searching the entire building from top to bottom before marching himself over to the Senju compound to knock on the man’s front door. No answer came and Madara marched away again with a frown. Peeking in to every training ground on the way, he made his way to the edge of the village where there had been a small compound set up for medical and scientific research. With Tobirama as one of the researchers explosions were bound to happen on occasion so no one had dared complain when they were built so far away from everything else.

As one of the most prolific – and dangerous – people that worked here, Tobirama’s office was its own small building close to the entrance of the compound. The moment Madara stepped in to it both hands flew up to cover his nose and, even though the man he was looking for wasn’t here, he suddenly knew exactly where to find him. The entire room absolutely reeked of herbs, which meant there was one place he would head for.

Neither Hashirama nor Mito appeared to be home but if they were they would have despaired over the loss of their recently replenished store of snacks. Tobirama sat huddled in to one corner of their couch, a half-eaten plate of rice crackers sitting on the table before him, a drying plum pit right next to it, and an open box of Pocky in his hands. Preoccupied with fishing out another delicious chocolate-covered stick of Pocky, he didn’t seem to realize that he had any company until Madara leaned heavily on the back of the couch and sighed, not bothering to be quiet about it.

“Huh?” He looked up slowly, eyes half-lidded. When he caught sight of Madara he groaned loudly and dropped his head back, whining, “Noooo. I thought you would go away!”

“I came to apologize.” There was little point in beating around the bush and he thought perhaps the other man would relax more if he threw up a white flag right away. As he’d thought, Tobirama seemed to melt back in to the cushions just a little bit more and offered him a tentative smile. Just four little words and he seemed amazingly willing to lay everything behind them.

“Never heard you apologize before,” he murmured. “That’s nice. You want a Pocky?”

“Uh, sure.”

Reaching for the offered treat, the kind he adored but very rarely indulged in, Madara was startled when it was snatched away again just before he could grasp it.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not doing it right!” Tobirama told him with a slow chortle.

“What could I possibly be doing wrong?”

“Haven’t you ever played the Pocky game?” Grinning widely, Tobirama stuck the candy between his teeth and tilted his face up towards Madara, speaking around it. “You’re supposed to take it from me like this!”

Madara reached out with his hand once more, intending to take it from the other’s mouth as asked. Tobirama shook his head and batted the hand away, pointing at Madara’s own mouth instead while waggling his pale eyebrows. It made him flush with embarrassment. Was he really expected to take the treat from Tobirama as though they were transferring a placebic kiss? He didn’t really want it all _that_ badly to risk embarrassing himself as he was likely to do.

One more glance at his companion’s cheerful, hopeful face and he knew he was going to do it anyway. He had come here with the intention to apologize and lower the man’s stress level; Madara didn’t have the heart to deny him anything at the moment after knowing how badly he’d made him feel.

Very mindful of both their personal boundaries, Madara leaned forward over the couch and delicately took just the very tip of the stick between his teeth. A light tug did nothing to free it from Tobirama, who only grinned wider with delight and refused to relinquish his grip. Sighing, Madara leaned a bit closer and shifted his teeth just a little farther down the stick, uncomfortably aware of how close this brought their faces together.

There wasn’t much time for him to react when Tobirama suddenly moved, employing the speed he was famed for even in his current state. Before Madara could properly interpret the light in the younger man’s eye he had shifted, pushing upwards and snapping through the Pocky with his teeth only to press his lips against Madara’s in a lightning fast kiss. Then he had dropped back down in to the corner of the couch with a smugly satisfied expression, munching happily on his half of the candy while Madara was left staring down at him, frozen. His own half of the stick lay still and uneaten within his mouth as he blinked furiously, disoriented.

“Hmmm.” Tobirama hummed in lazy gratification, stretching languorously. “If we could just do that instead of fight all the time my stress levels would go _waaaaaay_ down.”

“EH!?” Regrettably, the chocolate between his teeth fell out on to the couch as he opened his mouth to make a confused exclamation.

“You’re pretty,” the other informed him with an unrepentant smile.

“I – you – what?”

“Do you want another Pocky?”

“No!” Cheeks flushing more than they already had, Madara straightened up and fiddled with his clothing, brushing away imaginary specks of dust while he tried to gather his scattered wits.

“Oh.” Tobirama tilted his head curiously. “Do you want another kiss?”

Madara spluttered, trying to respond but not coming up with any actual words to say. Admittedly, he wasn’t even sure how he wanted to respond to the question. It hadn’t been a _bad_ kiss. He wasn’t exactly opposed to a few nice kisses if they were being offered. But didn’t they hate each other? Since when did Tobirama think of him as pretty and offer kisses in such a casual tone?

Almost as though the other were reading his mind, Tobirama shrugged and reaching out a lazy hand to swat at some of Madara’s hair. “Always thought you were pretty. Wanted to kiss you for a while but you’re just always so grumpy, Mads.”

“Stop calling me ‘Mads’,” was all he could mumble as his brain frantically searched for how he wanted to answer.

“Fine then, _Madara_.”

A shiver ran through him, immediately and almost reluctantly intrigued by the way Tobirama purred his name. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he felt a light tug and opened them again to see that the younger man had wrapped pale fingers in his hair, gently pulling on them to try and encourage him to bend down.

“What?” he croaked. Tobirama was grinning unrepentantly.

“You didn’t say no. _I_ want to kiss you and you didn’t say no. C’mere.”

“It would be wildly inappropriate with you under the influence,” he pointed out. Unfortunately the words sounded twice as weak due to the way he was slowly following the direction of that subtle pull on his hair, allowing himself to be led inexorably downward.

“Don’t worry, I’d ask you sober too if I thought you’d say yes.”

To his relief, Madara was spared having to come up with an answer to that. He’d already been led far enough over the back of the couch that Tobirama could sit straight, tilt his face up as he had before, and draw him in to a second kiss that stole the breath right out of his lungs.

Maybe it was a strange thing to fixate on but the thing he noticed first and then couldn’t seem to stop noticing was how warm the other man was. Tobirama’s lips were comfortingly warm against his own and the hand that curled around his jaw felt as though it might leave a brand against his skin. For a single fleeting instant he thought that perhaps he wouldn’t mind wearing Tobirama’s brand for everyone to see. Then he felt a searing hot tongue drag boldly against his lips and gasped, giving his companion an open invitation to delve inside and wipe away all remaining thoughts in his head.

It felt like forever that he spent bent over the couch, lazily making out with a man he would generally be more predisposed to arguing with. And maybe this was why, he realized eventually, thoughts moving sluggishly around the fog filling his brain. Maybe the reason sparks flew every time they were in a room together was just the result of unresolved sexual tension that he had never bothered to properly admit to.

He would freely admit to it now. The only thing keeping him from hopping over to the other side of the couch and ravishing the other properly was the issue of consent. He couldn’t really accept Tobirama’s permission to do anything when he was high as a kite; it was this same thought which gave him the strength to pull away at last. Tobirama followed him with a displeased whine until he was too far away to catch then sank back down in to the cushions with a dazed look on his face.

“We should do that again,” he mumbled distractedly.

“Perhaps when you haven’t been inhaling questionable things that make you reek to the high heavens.” Madara was well aware that his snappy comeback didn’t have nearly the edge it should’ve, not when he sounded so breathless. He didn’t have it in him to care.

“I’ll be fine after a nap.” The lift of Tobirama’s brow was hopeful and it made him smile.

“A nap and a shower, maybe. As I said: you reek. Whatever it is you imbibe, the smell of it is absolutely wretched.”

Chuckling, though not bothering to deny it, Tobirama patted the spot next to him. It took a little coaxing but Madara eventually deigned to stray a little closer and settle himself on the other end of the sofa. Amusement and hesitant pleasure warred with each other when Tobirama huffed and scooted over to cuddle in to his side. He made sure to stay as still as possible while the younger man slowly fell asleep on his shoulder, beatific smile in place.

When Hashirama came home and found the two of them asleep a few hours later he woke them both up with his sobbing. Despite his obvious embarrassment concerning his behavior earlier, Tobirama refused to give up his spot curled up against Madara until he was convince to go home and wash off the smell of the herbs. Madara went home to clean up as well and met the other at his front door with an invitation to dinner that had both of their faces blushing red.

As it turned out, Tobirama had been correct. With the tension between the two of them resolved and the freedom to sneak in a kiss whenever he needed it, the amount of stress he suffered from declined exponentially. That wasn’t to say that he had no stress whatsoever or that his other duties suddenly lightened. He was still as busy as he had ever been with his hand often in too many projects at once. And of course there was nothing to be done about the fact that he simply couldn’t turn off his mind sometimes, when he felt so overwhelmed by everything that he required outside assistance relaxing himself, but the frequency of those occasions grew less as time went by.

Madara rather cheerfully took the credit for that. He had absolutely no complaints about the times when his partner would show up out of nowhere demanding a little stress relief. Over time they developed a number of methods to get rid of the stress and Madara was shameless enough to admit that his favorite was a quick hard round of sex across one of their desks.

If his second favorite was a quiet couple hours of cuddling at home, no one else had to know that.

He also wasn’t afraid to admit that he had never been so relaxed himself either; he hadn’t even noticed how much stress he carried from all of his duties with no release until suddenly his nights were filled with Tobirama and his days with goofy smiles. As annoying as it was, Hashirama’s new habit of bursting in to happy tears at the mere sight of him and Tobirama together also made him sort of smug. He had the strangest urge to puff himself out like a peacock and parade around the village so that everyone could see that Tobirama belonged to him now. Of course, he would never even try to do such a thing, but the urge to was still there.

Eight months passed, before he could even blink it seemed, and Madara was a little bemused to find himself one day standing in the living room of the house they shared, turning a silver ring over and over between his hands. He could hardly believe his life had changed so much in such a short time – and here he was about to change it even more. Well, hopefully. He hadn’t asked yet.

Rustling in the other room caught his attention and Madara took a deep breath in. Just over eight months ago he’d had a gut feeling that something was about to happen when Tobirama left the office and never came back. As he wiped his clammy hands on the sides of his trousers, he wondered if his partner had a similar feeling right now, if he could sense that their lives were about to take yet another step forward.

Clearing his throat, Madara clenched his fist around the ring and forced his feet to walk despite the fluttering in his belly. Although he never could have seen it coming, he was ready for this. He only hoped Tobirama was as well.

And also that his lover wouldn’t deck him one for slipping ‘I get high on your love’ in to his proposal speech.


End file.
